


dopamine

by Only_angel_28



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Harry Styles, Boys Kissing, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Louis, Social Experiments, Strangers to Lovers, grad student Louis, just fluff and cuteness, that's all this is really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_angel_28/pseuds/Only_angel_28
Summary: Louis honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these types of situations.Well,actually,that’s a lie. He’s doing this because he needs the money, and because he’s curious. And,okay,maybe because he might be a little bit lonely too. He has always had what his mother affectionately calls an “adventurous spirit.” Couple that with being a (tragically single) broke grad student andvoila!here he is scrawling his signature on a release form provided by the university’s sociology department. Essentially, he is agreeing to snog a stranger on camera for the sake of science.Shouldn’t be a problem, right? All he has to do is lock lips with a (hopefully) fit bloke, collect his money, and be on his way. Easy peasy. Little does he know, fate has other plans for him in the form of one adorably quirky art student who goes by the name of Harry Styles.





	dopamine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi loves! It’s been a really long time since I’ve posted anything. I've been working on a bunch of different projects, but I wanted to share this short little story to help get myself back into the swing of things. I’ve also joined the tumblr-verse since I last updated. I’m beau-soleil-louis over there, so please feel free to come say hi!
> 
> Thank you, [Sherri](http://lwtrainbows.tumblr.com/), for listening to me whine about this fic and just for being supportive and encouraging in general!

__

 

_I crave your taste under my tongue everyday_

_Keep the forbidden fruit coming my way_

_I wanna feel your sugar in my veins_

_Baby, I just wanna feel_

_Wanna feel that stream of dopamine_

 

-Dopamine, BORNS

 

 

<<>>

 

Louis honestly doesn’t know how he gets himself into these types of situations.

Well, _actually_ , that’s a lie. He’s doing this because he needs the money, and because he’s curious. And, _okay_ , maybe because he might be a little bit lonely too. He has always had what his mother affectionately calls an “adventurous spirit.” Couple that with being a (tragically single) broke grad student and _voila!_ here he is scrawling his signature on a release form provided by the university’s sociology department. Essentially, he is agreeing to snog a stranger on camera for the sake of science.

Shouldn’t be a problem, right? All he has to do is lock lips with a (hopefully) fit bloke, collect his money, and be on his way. Easy peasy. Little does he know, fate has other plans for him in the form of one adorably quirky art student who goes by the name of Harry Styles.

 

<<>>

 

Louis hadn’t expected the answer to his financial troubles to come in the form of a flier tacked up just outside the coffee shop in the student union. If anything, that place was normally a detriment to his finances thanks to his fondness for a certain mocha-flavored concoction with copious amounts of whipped cream on top that cost nearly five quid. But, ultimately, that was how it happened.

He had scanned the flier as he (guiltily) sipped his over-priced iced coffee, skimming over the details and focusing in on what he deemed to be the important bits. Namely, that there was money to be made in exchange for participating in a social experiment of sorts conducted by a couple sociology students.

Maybe referring to it as the “answer” to his financial trouble was a bit of an exaggeration considering the pay for participating was only fifty pounds. It was more like a temporary fix, but if Louis was disciplined about it he could stretch that money out to cover his groceries for at least two weeks, possibly a month if he was _really_ stingy. He ignored the part of his brain that casually pointed out fifty pounds was also enough to buy him ten days’ worth of delicious, sugary coffee drinks. That was entirely unhelpful.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t found the social experiment aspect outlined on the flier quite intriguing as well. The money was appealing, sure, but what he had to do in order to earn the money had his curiosity piqued. The subject of the experiment was the nature of attraction, and the two students in charge would be pairing up the participants and asking them to kiss on camera right after meeting for the first time. The resulting footage of each couple would then be compiled into a documentary by the two students, and, eventually, submitted for marking in one of their courses. It was also clearly stated on the flier that they were hoping for a diverse range of participants in terms of both gender and sexual orientation, which Louis found promising.

Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten much action in awhile, and he was a little touch-starved. Pursuing his masters in education and being as dedicated as he was to his studies didn’t allow much time for a proper boyfriend, and he didn’t really fancy one night stands. It’s not that he was lazy or unwilling to try and make things work, it just so happened that the few guys he had actually dated in the past two years had been less than understanding about the time commitment required by his degree program. He definitely missed having someone in his life to care for him and who he could care for in return, and he craved the intimacy of a committed relationship. He just needed to find someone who was supportive.

He was in the home stretch with school now, just one more semester to go, and then he could spend the summer months prioritising his love life. He hoped that this one kiss with a stranger would tide him over until then. He also realised those were quite high expectations to place on some bloke he had never met before and knew nothing about, but Louis liked to think of himself as a fairly optimistic person. Surely, it couldn’t hurt to hope, right?

That evening had found Louis sat at his laptop, filling out a brief application (name, age, course of study, gender, sexual orientation, etc.) and submitting it to the email address provided on the flier. He had received a response the very next day informing him that he had been selected to participate and outlining the details of the project. Attached to the email was a release form, giving his consent to be filmed, which he was supposed to print off and sign in order to participate. He was also given the address of the filming location as well as a date and time.

There were specific instructions about when and how he should arrive in order to avoid running in to his assigned partner before they could be filmed meeting for the first time. He was to arrive at the location first, and his partner was scheduled to arrive five minutes later. It was a clever solution, and Louis appreciated the students’ diligence and commitment to their project. He couldn’t help but to be a little excited at the prospect of kissing a stranger, and spent a few moments daydreaming about what his potential partner would be like.

 

<<>>

 

So here Louis is, release form clutched in his hand, the paper still warm from the university library’s printer and the ink of his signature still fresh enough to smudge. He blows on it a bit in an effort to hurry up the drying process, but ultimately gets impatient and just folds the paper up and shoves it in his pocket, smudges be damned. He shoulders his way out of the crowded library and heads for the bus stop. Today is not a day he can afford to be late.

When he arrives at the address he was given in his acceptance email, he finds himself staring up at an old industrial warehouse, complete with faded, ivy-covered brick and a few shattered glass windows. The frigid January air nips at his exposed skin, a few scattered flurries swirling about, but it’s not properly snowing yet. Still, it’s bitterly cold, and Louis pulls his hood up higher and hunches his shoulders against the harsh wind as he heads for the stone steps at the front of the building.

The temperature inside isn’t all that much warmer than it was outside, thanks no doubt to those few broken windows he noticed, and he shivers as he follows a couple signs directing him towards the lift. He hopes the upper floor where they’ll be filming is much warmer than the first level, as it would be quite difficult to try and snog someone in his current state with his teeth chattering so violently.

The air smells of sawdust and a bit like pine - the artificial variety that he suspects comes from industrial strength cleaner. It’s still quite nice. He rounds a corner and the lift comes into view. It just so happens to be an ancient freight elevator with a heavy iron gate that has to be pulled down from above. There’s a bloke present to operate it, whom Louis greets politely before stepping inside.

He spends the duration of the ride admiring the mechanics behind the ancient piece of architecture. He’s always been a bit of a sucker for old world design, his fascination fueled by his Granddad who made his living as an architect in London up until he retired a few years ago. _They just don’t make things like they used to_ , he would always say. Louis couldn’t help but agree. There was a definite romance in the craftsmanship of old, an intricacy that he hadn’t seen replicated in modern designs.

He doesn’t have much time to ruminate on the thought, because the lift grinds to a shuddering halt, and then the jaws of the iron cage are being opened to spit him out on the top floor of the warehouse. He spares a moment to thank the bloke and offer him a farewell wave before he gets caught up in his new surroundings.

It’s a lovely space, open and airy, and with its own distinct smell - more like old books this time, but a trace of sawdust still lingers. Louis can see right away why this particular space was chosen as the filming location, because the light...it’s quite remarkable. Filtering in through the cloudy glass of thick-paned windows inset in criss-crossing iron grids, the light has a soft-focused, romantic incandescence to it that Louis guesses will look absolutely stunning on film.

The chunky, roughly hewn planks of the hardwood floors are uneven in places, time-worn, with more knots and divots then Louis can count. They’re very charming and obviously original, if a little grimy. That’s easily overlooked considering they’re flooded with pools of sunlight, dust motes dancing through the illuminated streams that spill onto the dark wood.

“Oh, great, you’re here!” A cheery voice calls out, interrupting Louis’ mental observations. “You must be Louis.”

“I am, indeed,” he confirms, stepping closer to the boy who addressed him and extending his hand for a shake.

He looks to be about Louis’ age, with a lean, muscular build, and a friendly face. His dark hair is close-cropped on the sides but fluffy on top, and his brown eyes crinkle from behind his glasses when he smiles. His overall vibe is warm and welcoming, and Louis immediately finds himself at ease in his presence.

“Nice to meet you, Louis,” he enthuses, taking Louis’ proffered hand and giving it a hearty shake. “I’m Liam Payne, and my mate Niall is around here somewhere…” Liam trails off and turns in a circle, presumably looking for this Niall character.

“Right here, Payno!” Someone calls out in a lilting Irish accent, and then another boy jogs over to join them. He’s brunet as well, but a little shorter than Liam, with a slightly stockier build and kind blue eyes. “Louis, is it?” He questions, bumping his shoulder against Liam’s in a manner that looks both playful and intentional.

Liam is barely jostled by the movement, but sneaks an elbow to the boy’s ribs in retaliation. He lets out a quiet _oof_ in response, but otherwise his attention remains fixed on Louis.

Louis nods in affirmation to his question, a bemused grin tugging at the corners of his lips from bearing witness to their affectionate display. They’re clearly good friends outside of working together on this project.

“The name’s Niall Horan. Nice to meet ya, mate!”

“Likewise, it’s nice to meet both of you.”

“Did Liam, here, go over everything with you?”

“Hadn’t had a chance yet, Ni.”

“Right, well basically, we’re going to have you there,” Niall points to where a large, colourful rug has been laid out on the floor in front of one of the expansive windows. Surrounding it on the other three sides is an overwhelming assortment of lighting and film equipment. “And Liam and I will be behind that camera there. He’ll be doing the filming, and I’m in charge of monitoring the audio.”

“Will we be wearing mics then?”

“Nah, mate. Didn’t want you to have to worry about the wires. I’ve got a telescopic boom I’ll be using.”

“Oh, nice,” Louis comments. He knows fuck all about sound equipment, but he has always enjoyed hearing people speak about their passions and Niall’s enthusiasm is contagious. “Fancy, that.”

Niall is visibly pleased by Louis’ interest, but before he can say any more on the topic, Liam takes over and asks if Louis has any questions or concerns before they get started. Louis shakes his head and produces his slightly crumpled release form with an apologetic grimace when prompted, sheepishly handing it over to Liam.

Liam, however, is unbothered. Louis gets the impression that nothing much bothers him, really. “Well, that’s pretty much it,” he says, shrugging up his shoulders and splaying his hands out at his sides. “We’re all set, just waiting on your partner to arrive.”

They instruct Louis to make himself comfortable and leave him to it, wandering back over to their equipment and conversing quietly while they make some last minute adjustments.

There’s one of those rolling garment racks that you see in clothing boutiques set up just outside of camera range, a couple wooden hangers dangling from the metal rail. _Classy_ , Louis thinks as he wrestles off his puffy black North Face parka, the one his best mate Zayn once said made him look like a burnt marshmallow (he was drunk at the time, bless him) and carefully hangs it up.

He’s happy to discover that the temperature is indeed much warmer than it had been downstairs, but he still shivers a little without the added layer of warmth his coat had provided. He pulls at the sleeves of his black shirt until the thin, soft material covers his hands and adjusts his Adidas snapback on his head, sweeping the longest bits of his asymmetrical fringe out of his eyes with careful fingers. He wanders over to the window and hoists himself up onto the ledge, looking out over the city behind him.

 “I’m ready for my close up, boys!” He calls out to Liam and Niall, just to be cheeky, and preens dramatically for the camera.

He’s rewarded with a laugh from each of them, while Liam ducks behind the lens to frame the shot with Louis in position. “The camera loves you, mate!” He teases, shooting Louis a thumbs up.

Just then, the lift grinds to a halt on their floor, the gate creaking as it opens to reveal a boy who is presumably Louis’ partner. He’s too far away for Louis to make out much more than his tall, dark silhouette, but somehow he just knows this boy is attractive. He gets closer, and Louis’ breath audibly hitches, his suspicion confirmed. The boy is indeed handsome, arrestingly so.

It must have started snowing properly since Louis arrived because there’s a dusting of it on the boy’s shoulders, a couple rogue flakes clinging to the artfully haphazard mess of curls atop his head and even a few bits caught on his lashes. He shrugs out of a posh-looking coat made of what appears to be thick, black wool. The hem hits him at right about knee-level, drawing attention to his height (Louis guesses he’s around six feet, give or take an inch).

Underneath, he’s dressed smartly in all black from head to toe – heeled leather boots, each adorned with a chunky silver buckle, skinny jeans that cling deliciously to his legs in a way that highlights how lean they are, and a well-cut knit jumper on top.

He shakes his hair out, unwinds a black scarf with artfully frayed edges from around his neck, revealing that his jumper isn’t in fact solid black as Louis had originally thought. There are colorful images of planets knit into the wool like a sash across his broad chest, running from his left shoulder down to his right hip. It’s quirky and adorable, and Louis feels a soft smile paint itself across his face at the sight.

Maybe he’s an alien. His beauty could certainly be described as otherworldly.

Space boy, as Louis is now going to refer to him, trips a little when he steps forward, the toe of his boot catching on one of the uneven planks in the floor. He covers it well, though, glosses over his misstep with a charming, dimpled smile that Louis thinks could probably get him anything he wants. No one could deny a boy with a smile like that.

His attention is directed at Liam and Niall, eyes alight as they catch on all the filming equipment. He hasn’t quite noticed Louis yet, it seems. _That’s just fine_ , Louis decides, because it gives him a chance to continue studying this fascinating creature uninterrupted.

He’s conversing genially with the two filmmakers, an apology on his lips, but Louis can’t make out the actual words being spoken between the three of them. His hearing has been reduced to white noise, a faint hum of static, as he watches the way the boy’s lips move around his words, the way they seem to lovingly caress each syllable.

Although Louis’ brain may be too hazy to decipher individual words, he’s at least coherent enough to register the cadence of the boy’s speech. He speaks in a slow, meandering drawl, his voice thick and soothing like honey. It snags in certain places, his accent causing him to drop a consonant here and there. It’s a good voice, an _exceptionally good_ voice. The kind that warms you from the inside out and instantly feels familiar, like something you’ve been hearing your whole life.

But back to his lips, because they’re really quite something. The lower one is full and plush and just a bit chapped from the harsh wind outside, while his upper lip – shadowed by just the suggestion of a mustache - is perfectly bowed, the line of it resembling the way children are taught to draw birds in primary school, like a stretched out letter M. They’re highly pigmented, the colour of them a deep, saturated red velvet. Louis has never seen a more aesthetically pleasing mouth. It truly is a sight to behold.

After watching him speak for just a few seconds, Louis has no trouble at all imagining exactly what it will be like to be kissed by those lips. It’s safe to assume, from the way they move, that it’ll be lovely.

Louis forces himself to tune back in to the conversation as the other three boys all turn to face him, Liam gesturing in his direction with a huge smile on his face, his eyes squinted endearingly.

“...and this is your partner for the film. I’ll let you two introduce yourselves.”

“Don’t mind us, lads,” Niall chimes in with a sunny smile of his own. “Just pretend we’re not here.”

Tall, dark, and curly’s gaze finally lands on Louis, and Louis is able to actually _see_ his breath catch in his throat the moment their eyes lock from across the room. His jaw goes slack, his mouth gaping open just the tiniest bit. Louis has to purse his lips to suppress a smile, trying not to be smug about the boy’s flattering reaction. It’s mutual, then, the attraction between them. _Excellent_ , this should be fun.

Louis starts to lower his feet to the ground in order to rise from where he’s still perched on the window sill, but space boy gently stops him with a slight raise of his hand.

“No, please,” he insists as he begins to make his way over on his stupidly long, stupidly gorgeous legs. “Don’t move, I’ll come to you.” His strides are lithe and confident like he didn’t just trip over his own two feet mere minutes ago. There’s a distinctly feline quality to the way his body moves – _slinks_ , really – as he advances on Louis like the world’s most harmless predator. He’s far too endearing to be intimidating, but Louis is left speechless all the same.

Never one to pass up the chance for dramatics or the opportunity to tease, Louis decides to take the suggestion literally and freezes in place like a statue.

The boy’s jaw flexes, his nose twitching and scrunching up like he’s trying to suppress a sneeze. ”Sorry,” he says quickly with a duck of his head and a self-deprecating little laugh. “I mean, you can move. Just, like—stay there. Please.”

Thoroughly endeared by both his quirky mannerisms and his polite rambling, Louis scoots his bum back onto the ledge fully and swings his legs a bit. He sucks in his cheeks and bites down on the side of his tongue as he waits for space boy to stumble his way over.

“Hi,” he says when he approaches, standing a respectful distance away, but close enough that Louis can feel the warmth of his body heat and detect the subtle, pleasant scent of his cologne – warm and sweet with just a hint of spice. Louis’ mouth waters reflexively. “…So, do we, erm, shake or, like, hug?”

“I don’t really know, to be honest. What’s the protocol here, lads?” Louis jokes, raising his voice so as to be heard by Liam and Niall as well. Both boys smile at him from the other side of the camera, but otherwise remain silent, obviously not wanting to interfere with the action.

“Something in between maybe?” Space boy suggests with a tiny shrug, running one hand through his curly hair and offering up the other for Louis to grasp on to.

Louis notices his eyes then; they’re placid like the surface of a lake, bright like the sun reflecting off freshly fallen snow, and the colour is quite vivid and definitely unique. It reminds Louis of the mottled brush strokes of a watercolor painting, blue bleeding into green to create a hue that’s a perfect blend of the two tones.

Reluctantly, Louis drags his own eyes away from the beauty of the boy’s face just long enough to notice the graphite smudges on his hands and the chipped, black polish on his fingernails.

He follows Louis’ line of vision and raises both hands, palms up, with a guilty expression. “Oh. Sorry about that,” he apologizes earnestly, a deep furrow forming between his brows. “Side effect of being an art student, I s’pose. They’re clean though, I promise. It’s just an absolute nightmare to scrub off, and I was in a bit of a hurry leaving the studio this morning.”

Louis has to clench his hands into fists so as not to reach up and smooth away the crease that’s still marring the boy’s forehead. _God, he’s adorable_. “Nah, don’t worry about it, love,” he placates easily. “I understand. My best mate is an artist as well. His hands are constantly covered in paint. Think it comes with the territory.”

Speaking of Zayn, maybe he knows him. Louis makes a mental note to ask his best mate about it the next time he sees him (and berate him mercilessly for not introducing Louis to this boy sooner if it turns out they do know each other, because, obviously, he’s Louis’ soulmate.)

Space boy smiles in what is clearly gratitude and wordlessly offers up one of his hands again.

 _Big hands_ , Louis notes with pleasure. Big, strong, capable-looking hands with long, lovely fingers that are absolutely covered in rings. Louis shivers as the cool metal brushes against his skin when they clasp hands. Instead of shaking Louis’ hand, however, the boy brings it up to his mouth and kisses the back of it like fucking Leonardo DiCaprio in _Titanic_ , maintaining eye contact all the while. Louis is charmed. Hell, Louis is _swooning_. He might even be a little bit in love.

“Interesting handshake method you got there, curly,” he observes in a playful tone, trying to keep it light. They just met after all, and up until now Louis had been a staunch believer that the concept of falling in love at first sight was utter rubbish. “Proper romantic, that.”

“It’s Harry, actually, my name. Harry Styles”

 _Harry_ still hasn’t let go of Louis’ hand.

“Same thing innit, love?” He teases, gesturing towards Harry’s curls.

Harry blushes sweetly, looking pleased.

“Just messing with ya, babe. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Louis, by the way. Louis Tomlinson if you want to be formal about it.”

“Well, _Louis Tomlinson_ , the pleasure’s all mine.”

 _Damn_ , this boy is on a whole other level of charming.

“Right, so, should we, erm—how do you want to do this?’

Harry looks adorably puzzled for a moment as he studies Louis with an intent expression, his dark brows still knit together in concentration. “I’m just gonna—” he says, releasing Louis’ hand and moving as if to cup his own to Louis’ cheek, stopping just short of actually completing the action to make sure Louis is okay with it first.

Louis is _definitely_ okay with it. More than, even.

“Go for it,” he nods with an encouraging smile. He tries to maintain a calm, relaxed aura, to tamp down on any lingering nerves, but a breathless huff of laughter breaks through despite his efforts. It’s just a tiny burst of sound, but the slight upward twitch of Harry’s lips indicates it didn’t go unnoticed.

“ ‘Kay, here I go...” He fits his hand to Louis’ face, fingers curling gently, palm warm as it molds to the shape of Louis’ cheek. He looks at Louis, bites his lip, rolls his shoulders, flexes his jaw, and blows out a breath so his lips buzz, but he doesn’t move to take things any further. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, hanging his head. “I’m being stupid. This is a little weird though, right?”

“It is,” Louis agrees with another encouraging smile, trying to be as supportive as possible in the hope that some of his calm will transfer to Harry.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous,” Harry admits, then quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. His eyes go comically wide, and he looks proper caught out as he turns to face Liam and Niall. “Shit—erm, I mean oops! Sorry. Probably shouldn’t curse. You can edit that out, right?”

“Nah, mate, it’s all good,” Liam is quick to assure. “We want this to be completely candid. Real life doesn’t come with a bleep button.”

Harry chuckles at that, but Louis can still feel the nervous energy rolling off him in waves, his body practically vibrating as he fidgets in place.

“Hey,” Louis says in as gentle a tone as possible, trying to draw Harry’s attention back to him, “look at me. Forget all this.” He makes a vague waving motion to indicate the studio space, all the lighting and camera equipment, and of course the camera itself with their audience of two behind it. “It’s just you and me, yeah? Just us. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. Thank you.” Harry swallows and nods, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s psyching himself up to do something rather unpleasant.

And that just won’t do. The circumstances might be a bit unusual for a first kiss between two people, but in no way does Louis want this to be a source of stress for Harry. It’s obvious the two of them have chemistry, he just needs to get Harry to relax enough to trust it. Louis has always found a little humour goes a long way in quelling nerves, and so that’s the tactic he employs now.

“I don’t bite, love, I promise,” he says, knuckling at the swell of Harry’s bicep through his jumper sleeve. (He figures he can’t go wrong with a reassuring touch either, especially since Harry gives off the impression of being quite tactile.)

“I might want you to,” Harry admits quietly, somehow managing to appear both provocative and demure as he looks up at Louis from beneath his lashes – _fuck, that’s sexy_.

Louis gives himself a metaphorical pat on the back for his excellent people-reading skills. _Tactile indeed_.

“Well, let me rephrase then. I won’t bite _unless_ you want me to. How’s that?”

Harry nods again, and, ironically, takes the opportunity to bite down on his lower lip himself. It doesn’t appear as though he’s intentionally trying to tease, but now that Louis has been presented with the visual, he can’t stop thinking about replacing Harry’s teeth with his own, letting them sink into the crimson plush of those gorgeous lips and giving them a good tug.

Harry coughs into his fist and takes a tentative step forward so he’s standing in the open V of Louis’ spread thighs. “So,” he thumbs over Louis’ cheekbone and inclines his head to the right as he seeks out Louis’ eyes, “can I kiss you?”

Louis can’t help the warmth that floods his chest any more than he can the laugh that bubbles out of him. “There’s literally a piece of paper around here somewhere with my signature on it that says you can, curly. I think that’s kinda the whole reason why we’re here.”

“No, I know. But, like, when you signed that release, you were agreeing to participate in the project, giving your consent to be filmed, and to be kissed by a stranger. I’m asking if it’s alright if _I_ kiss you.”

And, okay, that’s— _wow_. What can Louis say? Harry personally asking for his consent is just really, _really_ ridiculously hot. And sweet. Hot and sweet, much like Harry himself.

Feeling bold, Louis grabs the front of Harry’s jumper, fisting the soft material and bringing him closer by it. “Get over here,” he commands in a low, playful growl, grinning from ear to ear as he raises his other hand to Harry’s lips and traces them softly with just the tips of his fingers.

Harry’s forehead knocks into the bill of Louis’ snapback when he gets overeager and tries to lean in too fast. Their resulting giggles mingle in the charged air between them, tangling and intertwining into an effortless harmony. Louis would have to be utterly daft not to notice how well they complement one another, how good they sound together.

There are tendrils of excitement curling in the pit of his stomach, frissons of nervous energy traveling up his spine and causing a prickling sensation at the nape of his neck. The anticipation is exquisite, their chemistry unmistakable with the way it buzzes between them like an electric current. Their lips haven’t even properly touched yet. It’s _insane_. Absolute madness.

“Here, let me just...” Harry chuckles as he reaches up to remove the offending snapback and reposition it so it sits backwards atop Louis’ head. 

A bit of Louis’ fringe falls into his eyes as a result. Harry brushes it away before Louis has a chance to do so himself. Somehow that small action, rife with both innocence and tenderness, ratchets up the tension even further and makes Louis feel exponentially more exposed. He’s vulnerable, but definitely not uncomfortable. Harry’s commitment to maintaining eye contact is especially nice, the way he’s searching Louis’ face for any hint of uncertainty. It’s apparent how much he cares about his partner’s comfort, which Louis very much appreciates because he is the same way. Not only do they have undeniable chemistry, but they appear to be compatible beyond just a physical context as well. As far as Louis is concerned, that will only serve to amplify the spark between them. He finds he cannot wait to find out how this will all manifest in their kiss.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Harry raises his brows in an unspoken question, a final confirmation that he has Louis’ consent.

“Yes,” Louis whispers as he tips his chin up and leans in closer. “ _Yes_ ,” he repeats right against Harry’s lips, just before they touch.

And then they’re kissing.

The first contact between their lips is electrifying… _literally_. Louis jolts backwards in shock at the stinging _zap!_ of static electricity that ricochets between them.

Harry shoots him an apologetic glance, a nervous smile twisting his lips as he swipes the pad of his thumb over them.

It seems Louis is going to have to get cheeky again if he doesn’t want to undo all the progress he’s made assuaging Harry’s nerves. Luckily, being cheeky is kind of his specialty. “Well, would you look at that,” he muses, throwing a smirk Harry’s way. “We’re electric.”

Harry presses his lips together, not entirely managing to contain his laugh as his eyes dance with amusement and his dimples deepen. “Try again?” he offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“I don’t know,” Louis replies, furrowing his brows as if in deep contemplation himself. “Could be dangerous...”

“Risk it?”

“Absolutely, c’mere.”

Louis wants more, it’s obvious from the second their lips reconnect. He wants to be closer, to go deeper, to dig his heels in and refuse to be moved. Already, Harry kisses him like he craves it, like he needs Louis’ mouth on his to survive. They may be virtual strangers, but their mouths behave like old friends. As a result, the kiss is both comforting and thrilling in equal measure. The exhilaration, the dopamine rush like lightning in his veins, has Louis feeling downright high. _This_ , he thinks, could easily become an addiction.

As he maneuvers their mouths so he’s in the position to gently suck at Harry’s lower lip, Harry’s hand slips from his face, down his neck, and falls onto his chest where he begins to trace nonsensical patterns with trembling fingers. It’s decidedly intimate; like Louis’ body is a blank canvas, and here’s Harry, creating art out it, painting him gold.

Despite the near overwhelming need to get closer, to push for more, Louis tries to maintain some semblance of chastity with their kisses, reminding himself they’re being filmed as he works to keep it tame.

But then…

” _Louis_ ,” Harry sighs, leaning further into the kiss and letting his hand drop to Louis’ thigh. He squeezes gently, exhales a ragged breath right into Louis’ mouth, then pulls back just enough to whisper, “ _Lou_.”

…and Louis loses it.

Keeping it chaste is no longer an option when Harry sounds like that – soft and sweet and noticeably overwhelmed, so desperate for Louis’ kiss that he’s actually pleading for it.

Louis appreciates how responsive he is because it takes out the guesswork. His body language is speaking loud and clear, leaving nothing to the imagination, and Louis is so grateful for it. He doesn’t have to try and read Harry’s mind, the answers are right there, easily spelled out for him in every touch, and Louis’ body seems to be having no trouble responding in kind. It’s all very natural between them, _easy_. Their kisses come as effortlessly as their next breaths. Thus, Louis has no qualms about taking it just the tiniest bit further.

He threads a hand through the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck and crashes their mouths together. He traces Harry’s lips with the tip of his tongue, teases the seam of them open with playful, imploring licks. Harry’s hand spasms where it’s resting on Louis’ thigh, his fingers digging in to the flesh, and then he’s returning the favour and licking into Louis’ mouth hungrily.

Harry might have given off the impression of innocence earlier, but Louis should have known it was merely an act. In reality, he’s an insufferable tease, a coy, delicious flirt. He curls his tongue and then retreats, withdraws it from Louis’ mouth completely, as if daring him to follow - _chase me_.

Louis accepts the challenge easily, pushes his own tongue between Harry’s lips and presses it against his front teeth as if in question - _let me in?_

Harry emits a soft little groan – one that’s unbearably sexy – and allows Louis entrance, sucking on the tip of his tongue and letting loose another desperate, whimper-y sound that is absolutely devastating to the very tentative grasp Louis has on his self control. Then his mouth is opening wider, _so wide_ Louis’ own jaw aches in sympathy, and Louis is pushing in fully, their tongues sliding together.

And, _god_ , the way he tastes…

It’s visceral, somatic, sharp and tangy with the flood of his pheromones, but rounded out with a savoury sort of sweetness that leaves Louis salivating for more. He’ll probably dream about it, it’s _that_ good.

There’s another thought tugging insistently at the back of Louis’ mind, grating at him in a slow, delicious chafe. It’s his more primitive brain begging him to acknowledge that what they’re doing with their mouths is a mere foreshadowing of what could someday occur between their bodies. He wonders if it would be just like this, with Harry teasing him and riling him up only to go soft and pliant and let Louis take what he wants when he gives pursuit. Would he give back as good as he’s getting, or would he offer himself up to be used for Louis’ pleasure while also trusting him to see to his own in the process?

Unbidden, a moan rises up from the depths of Louis’ chest, only to be swallowed immediately by Harry’s greedy, talented mouth. Their tongues slide together once again, properly this time, and it’s _so good_. It’s the _best_.

Harry doesn’t parry for the upper hand. He pushes back, but it’s an invitation. He’s not fighting Louis, he’s _encouraging_ him, _challenging_ him, somehow already privy to the knowledge that Louis thrives when he’s put under a little bit of pressure. He’s reading him like a book, appealing to Louis’ competitive nature in a way that physically makes his stomach quake. Harry tilts his head, opens his mouth further – a graceful acquiesce – and Louis has never witnessed a more beautiful surrender. He thinks he could honestly do this forever.

There’s just so much to be gleaned from the way Harry kisses. He learns far more in the gentle press of their lips, the hitch in Harry’s breath, the scrape of his teeth, the flutter of his eyelashes, than he thinks he could in a thousand words (though he wants all of Harry’s words too, wants to know his mind just as well as his body). He quickly discovers that Harry is one of those partners who kisses with their whole being, just absolutely cannot be still with it. Maybe some would mistake that for restlessness, but Louis thinks they’d be wrong. Harry’s thorough, precise – a consummate master of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth – with just enough cheeky spontaneity to keep things interesting, to keep Louis guessing and have him coming back for more.

“You’re making me dizzy,” he gasps when they part for air. His chest heaves and his head is indeed spinning, his grasp on reality feeling especially tenuous.

“ ‘M sorry,” Harry mumbles between sweet kisses dusted along Louis’ jaw, sounding anything but. He isn’t fairing much better than Louis, his breathing characterised by staccato pants, hot and desperate in contrast with the gentleness of his lips.

Louis catches his face between his hands, thumbs tracing patterns over his cheek bones, softening the sharp angles with gentle, rhythmic circles, drawing Harry up so their lips brush when he whispers, “Don’t be.”

And then they’re diving back in.

Their inhibitions have been completely forgotten, as have their surroundings apparently, because the sound of someone clearing their throat jars Louis back to earth. _Right_ , they’re not alone.

They break apart with a soft smack, Harry immediately reclaiming his now kiss-swollen lower lip between his teeth and biting down on it. “Oops,” he murmurs sheepishly.

“Hi,” Louis replies on an exhale. He ducks down to rest his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, tucking his smile into the soft knit fabric of Harry’s jumper.

“Hi,” Harry echoes. His voice is nothing but a rasp, and Louis feels the low, husky scrape of it all the way down to his toes.

He groans quietly, warmth spreading through his cheeks at the sound of amused laughter permeating the open space around them. That’ll be Liam and Niall, then. It’s a fair reaction, he supposes, given the show he and Harry just put on. His shoulders begin to shake with his own silent giggles as Harry runs his hands up and down his arms to soothe him, his fingers skating over Louis’ biceps.

That somehow leads to another kiss, a comparatively tame one this time, just a soft melt of their mouths followed by three presses of their lips in quick succession.

“Um, lads?” Niall prompts, laughter evident in his voice. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think it’s best for me to before this turns into a very different kind of film.”

Louis gasps, faux-scandalized, if only for the way it makes Harry giggle and nuzzle into his shoulder. “What are you implying, Neil?”

Niall takes the teasing in stride, laughing along with Liam and Harry like Louis is the cleverest bloke he’s ever met. It’s quite nice, familiar almost, like perhaps the four of them were all friends in another life. Maybe they will be in this one too. Louis thinks he’d like that very much, Niall and Liam seem like they’d be excellent mates. As for Harry…

He smiles shyly and holds out a hand to help Louis hop down from the window sill. Chivalry, it appears, is very much alive thanks to one Harry Styles.

“Gotta say, curly, your choice of clothing was quite appropriate.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry grins, “and why’s that?”

“Your lips are out of this world.”

Harry barks out a horrendous honking goose laugh, and then immediately looks mortified and slaps a hand over his mouth as if that can shove the sound back in somehow. There’s really no need for him to be embarrassed, though. If anything, Louis is even more gone for him than he was just a few moments prior.

“Adorable,” he whispers, tugging Harry’s hand away from his mouth and leaning up to steal one last kiss. If this is his one and only chance with Harry, he’s not going to waste the opportunity, and he certainly isn’t going to feel guilty about being a little greedy.

Liam and Niall are busying themselves with their equipment, clearly trying to give Harry and Louis as much privacy as they can manage. They’re good lads, Louis thinks again. He quite owes them, what with their little project being the catalyst that brought him to Harry.

As much as they were obviously trying to buy Harry and Louis some alone time, they can’t prolong the inevitable forever. Niall and Liam have more couples to film, and eventually they make their way over to offer their sincere thanks to Harry and Louis and present them each with an envelope containing their payment for participating. They promise to stay in touch and to contact Harry and Louis when their film is finished so they can watch it. And that’s that. No more reasons to hang around.

Harry and Louis exchange soft smiles as they collect their coats and head for the lift. Louis drags his feet the whole way. He’s not ready to say goodbye to Harry yet, and he’s psyching himself up to ask him out on a date or, at the very least, for his phone number. Together, they hover by the lift, both shrugging into their coats. The ride down is silent, and Louis notices the way Harry is fidgeting, dancing from foot to foot and playing with his fingers where his hands are clasped in front of him.

After exiting the lift, the trudge towards the front entrance, and now Harry is definitely dragging his feet too. Just from observing him briefly, Louis knows that he’s a slow-mover, but this feels distinctly like stalling. Like he’s just as desperate to prolong their time together as Louis is.

Louis can’t take the mounting tension between them any longer, he’s been given a chance and he would be a fool not to take it. He turns to Harry and opens his mouth to say something – _anything_ to get him to stay – when Harry cuts him off at the pass, speaking up before Louis can make his move.

“So that was, erm—” he starts, trailing off a bit awkwardly and scratching at the underside of his jaw. His green eyes are huge and imploring as they search Louis’ face expectantly, like he’s begging for a lifeline.

“Interesting?” Louis offers cheekily. He just can’t seem to resist.

Harry does that thing again that he did earlier where he sniffs and scrunches his nose up in a manner that suggests he’s about to sneeze. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he ducks his head with a staccato chuckle, then looks up at Louis with what can only be described as fondness.

“I mean,” he says, his voice coming out thick and gravelly, meaning he has to take a moment to clear it, which in turn causes him to flush in embarrassment. It’s a lovely colour on him, the shade of his natural blush. He’s beautiful like this, a true English rose. “I thought it was quite nice,” he finally manages to stutter out in his syrupy drawl.

Now it’s Louis’ turn to blush. “Yeah, um, me too,” he agrees softly, slightly mesmerised by the raspy quality of his own voice. _This is it_ , time to lay all his cards out on the table. “I mean, kissing you wasn’t exactly a hardship. In fact, I think I’d rather like to do it again sometime. Y’know, minus all the cameras.”

“Yeah?”

Louis’ heart swells at how hopeful Harry looks, how his posture visibly relaxes upon hearing Louis’ declaration.

“Mhmm,” he confirms and takes a step closer.

“Me too.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugs like he’s trying to be casual about it, but his eyes are alight with excitement and what Louis perceives as eager anticipation. He bites his lip. “I was hoping you’d tell me?”

Louis releases the breath he had subconsciously been holding, grateful to have it confirmed that they’re on the same page. “Fancy grabbing lunch? I know a great burger place.”

Harry’s smile is a timid, creeping thing that blooms into a full-blown grin by the time Louis finishes speaking. He nods fervently, his body already turning in the direction of the door. “I could definitely go for a burger.”

“Brilliant,” Louis says, mirroring his body language and turning toward the door as well. “Let’s get out of here then. I’m starved.”

“Worked up an appetite, did you?”

“Cheeky,” Louis accuses with a playful nudge to Harry’s shoulder as they walk side by side through the front door and descend the steps outside. Their knuckles brush between them, and, in a surge of bravery, Louis reaches out and tangles their fingers together. “As a matter of fact, curly, I did.”

He stops on the pavement – snow swirling around them like something out of a film – brings their entwined hands up to his lips, and kisses the back of Harry’s. Teasingly, he bites his knuckles before mouthing at them tenderly, soothing them with soft kisses.

The look Harry graces him with could quite literally bring Louis to his knees. Luckily, he has Harry by his side to anchor him and keep him steady.

 

<<>>

 

Louis ends up spending half the money he earned participating in the film paying for their lunch date, and then the other half at the cinema after they mutually agree they aren’t ready for their time together to end. When he returns to his flat that night – his lips still tingling from the goodnight kiss they shared, a new contact in his phone, and the promise of a second date the coming weekend – Louis can’t say he minds all that much.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Here’s a link to the [tumblr post.](https://beau-soleil-louis.tumblr.com/post/182456248761/dopamine-by-onlyangel28-louis-honestly-doesnt)  
> If you enjoyed this story, please do me a favor and reblog it to help spread the love. 
> 
> As always, comments are the way to my heart, so please let me know what you think :)


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